


A Sybaris of Snakes

by Vulgarweed



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Tentacles, Crowley Is a Very Snakey Boy, Fantasy Shapeshifter Bestiality, Hemipenes, M/M, Oral Sex, Snake Orgy, Sort of Like Tentacles, Wanton Aziraphale, snake penis, so many snakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:00:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26379976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vulgarweed/pseuds/Vulgarweed
Summary: Sequel toA Susurration of Serpents(which now has beentranslated into Russian!)Aziraphale accepts the invitation to the one-demon-snake-orgy.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 179
Collections: Weird Ethereal and/or Demonic and/or Supernatural Sex Shenanigans





	A Sybaris of Snakes

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to my betas, [HiddenLacuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenLacuna/pseuds/HiddenLacuna) and [Luthe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthe/pseuds/Luthe)

This time, when Aziraphale let himself into Crowley's flat, he had much more of a realistic idea what to expect. And he was primed for this. Wanting. Ready.

Still, he was nervous. He dithered for a moment, outside the door, then summoned his courage and put his hand on the knob. He opened the door as quietly as he could, as if he were worried about waking a sleeper, and brandished the bottle of wine so carefully - as a gift or a weapon, depending.

The door got just a  tiny bit stuck, and he shoved with just a  tiny bit of celestial force.

There were so very many bodies in the way. The door would hardly budge with the press of squirming snakes, and when he pressed gently, they tumbled over each other until they spilled back down like a very flexible rock slide. So many more than the last time.

They draped over the floor, over the desk, around the houseplant pots, twining through the limbs of that oddly erotic sculpture of an angel and demon fighting - or, "fighting," Aziraphale gathered. The hiss of the scales, the strangely alluring scent of a thousand snakes aroused and mating…. None of this was a surprise to him now, and none of it unwelcome. He instead regarded them with a fond little smile, and made his way carefully to the table with his bottle of wine, taking great care not to step on any of the small writhing bodies. The snakes didn't interrupt their activities, even when he popped the cork and poured himself a glass. He sipped it with great pleasure. Crowley would get his  taste  later...although, wait. Several small heads had crept up and were peeking over the edge of the table. "Oh well then," Aziraphale said  fondly . He poured a  generous dram  of wine into a tea saucer and waited for several of the little snakes to creep up and dip their darting tongues in the red liquid.

A little hiss of pleasure arose from all of them at once - a hiss of pleasure distinct from the ones they'd already been emitting. So it was a true collective consciousness, Aziraphale noted. A pleasure felt by one spread through to all. With unbearable  affection  he watched the little forked tongues lapping up the wine. He waited for the increase in boldness to take its effect. Now they all knew he was here, at least. He sipped his wine and took a seat at the table, and waited for them to come to him.

It did not take long.

He felt strong, ropy bodies  nuzzling  along the side of his foot in his brogues. He felt a small head investigating his ankles,  nudging under the hems of his socks.

He decided he ought to  loosen  his waistcoat.

He slipped his collar out from under his bowtie and  slipped  a few buttons.

After all, it's not as if Crowley's multitudinous form had even one hand between all of them. He was going to have to do the undressing work himself.

"Mmm," he said quietly as snakes wound around his calves in slightly tightening circles. He could feel the muscular coils of them  rippling  and tightening as they worked his way around his knees, locking for a moment around his lower thighs. He had not previously thought of his legs as especially sensitive, but he felt extremely responsive now. The insistent probing along his inner thighs was producing a pressure that would simply have to be relieved soon. 

Feeling quite daring, he  released  his trouser button, and then lowered the flies. Snakes rippled eagerly towards the juncture of his legs and the bulge still trapped in his boxers. He felt a muscular embrace at the crease of thigh and and hip, and he gave a lewd little wriggle. Snake heads nudged at the waistband of his trousers, and he could almost feel the reproach in their regard.

"Right then. Should I just shimmy these off for you? Forward little things, aren't you?" He obliged.

Aziraphale thought he ought to be a good guest, so he slowly reached down to peel off one shoe and then the next. He wiggled his toes in his socks, on purpose. There was much hissing.

Gradually he stood up carefully, regretfully, and made his way to the sofa that, for all its harsh modernity, looked quite a bit more comfortable than the stark dining room chair.

The tiny little ripping warm bodies against his instep made him shiver. So very very good. They parted before his steps like sentient slippery bead curtains so as not to be trod upon, and just as quickly reached out to wrap his heels as he stepped down.

"You like the sock garters, don't you?" he said with a little giggle. The snakes rippled and shimmied up his ankles. It felt surprisingly good, especially as a dozen tiny flickering tongues darted around the garters, especially at that sensitive place at the back of his knees. It tickled, and he shivered a little. "Does that taste good to you, my dear?"

It took a little getting used to, to address a legion this big as a single entity, but he'd long ago got used to the singular  _ they _ , so it wasn't such a leap to accept a  _ he _ that was very, very plural.

"Cheeky," he said, his voice less steady as a dozen little heads nuzzled very gently into the creases of his thighs, rubbing their smooth but oh so lightly ribbed scales against the delicate loose skin of his bollocks, wriggling through his curly hair. One small tail, and then two, and then three, coiled around the stiffening shaft of his cock, giving a series of little pulsing tugs.

Aziraphale groaned and leaned back upon the sofa, where another softly roaring armada of snake bodies surged up and over his chest and shoulders, tongues flicking at his nipples, coils gently binding his wrists and wrapping a throbbing grip around his neck.

"Oh, you," he moaned. Though his hands were slightly held, he had enough give within the coils to stretch out his fingers and caress as many of the slender bodies as he could reach, gently raking his manicured nails along the scales, this way - smooth - and that way - rough. Feeling the powerful warm muscles moving beneath the skin, listening to the rising collective hiss of pleasure this caused, something nearly akin to the purr of a massive cat or the contented humming of a hundred well-fed well-ruled beehives. "Oh you do like that dear, don't you?"

As one, the mass of snakes engulfing Aziraphale seethed and roiled together. The rhythmic pulling on his cock - oh, just there, that little tail just below the head, so fiendishly clever and shameless, that little tongue - those several little tongues - at the slit, teasing out little drips of wetness and savouring it. He looked down, and the shameful contrast of his pink skin with the shiny black and red snake bodies, he thought, looked so lovely - oh he was flushed now, and his sweat was lubricating the ripples of the muscular bellies that gripped him all over - everywhere. And oh goodness heads investigating his bum, little lapping tongues teasing and tasting him, a pressure on the inside of his thighs to spread wider. He felt absolutely wanton, practically a libertine, giving himself up in such a way, and it was -well, certainly not heavenly. Heaven had nothing to compare to this.

He gave a little squeak as he felt a tiny, insistent point of pressure there at the very center. Tongues lapped at his hole - and was that a tail? Yes, a tiny slender little tip of tail, pushing to be let in. With the slickness of his sweat and the smoothness of the scales, it slid in easily and then began to  _ wriggle _ . There was a hint of a rough rasp as they slid out, and then soothing silk as it slide back in.

He let out a startled sound, higher in pitch than he'd expected, and the snakes waited with bated breath until they were sure that was a sound of  _ oh yes please _ and not a sound of  _ begone, foul fiend _ \- though it certainly had, in its lower vibrations, more than a hint of  _ get thee behind me _ .

Another little tail slid in beside the first, and Aziraphale leaned into it, doing his own little spot of wiggling in encouragement, and then several more tails undulated on in, packed tight, and twirling and drilling in separate directions once inside until they all seemed to gather around a hard little gland, and then they wove together as one thick, full instrument - though more flexible than any human appendage - and collectively they thrust and darted and revolved until Aziraphale was almost sobbing with pleasure and tightly building anticipation.

Hungrily he reached out to lick the scales of the snakes nearest his mouth, and welcomed more tails into him there as well, sucking and nibbling (and nearly accidentally biting one little head that got very curious about the softness of his lips and the taste of his tongue).

As pressure built in his body and his spine started to bend tight as a bow, he did begin to think this was all slightly unfair, and when one snakey body slithered across his lips, he caught it  gently between his teeth . With his tongue he began to carefully search the ridged plated belly down towards the base of the tail - well, it was awfully difficult to tell where a snake's tail began, wasn't it?

Yet he thought he found the spot when all the moving bodies upon him stopped moving for one perfect still frozen moment. Experimentally, he pushed a little harder with his tongue, and with his lips he sucked the little body farther into his mouth, holding it very  carefully . He lapped lightly, teasing, and then applying more pressure. Sure enough, two slick, softly barbed little nubs emerged from a vent in the scaly skin. Aziraphale gave a happy humming sound he thought might vibrate nicely, and then began to tease them in earnest with his tongue.

All the snakes hissed, and intensified their efforts everywhere they were around and inside Aziraphale, which was everywhere - there was even a tail or two tickling his ear, and an attempt at conquering a nostril, which was soon thankfully abandoned.

The two buds lengthed and swelled in his mouth - still small, just tasty little things, with a salty sort of tang. They quivered as Aziraphale sucked them.

Now Aziraphale had a problem - give in to the sweet and almost violently pleasurable sensations overtaking the entire lower half of his body and spiralling up in his chest, and risk injuring these delicate tidbits in his convulsion? Or apply a little angelic willpower to hold off until he'd had the chance to experience a climax of all these hundred bodies at once. Oh, how incredible would that feel?

He applied due diligence to the little double snake cocks, laving them with love and lascivious joy, savouring them like the sweetest of ladyfinger delicacies. He found a rhythm with lips and tongue, keeping his teeth safely away, and was rewarded by ripples.

But he might have, for just one single instant, forgotten that his beloved opponent in this game of erotic one-upmanshapedbeingship was  _ Crowley _ . There was one deep, boring, tickling thrust deep inside with the tail coils. And one hard rippling pulse on his prick. And one completely unfair playful squeeze of his bollocks.

And that did for him, for he had let down his guard, feeling smug with his ability to give pleasure as well as receive it.

Bliss erupted like a freakish display of ball lightning, igniting deep in his core and spreading out to the very tip of his member, violently rocking all the flesh in between that had not had much experience of this sort of thing before. He cried out and shuddered violently, and he could feel his bollocks emptying recklessly, spending whatever passed for seed in an angel all over the clever little bodies that had worked him to his crisis, painting their black scales white.

For long seconds - seconds that felt they held the whole lifespan of a solar system - he writhed and wailed and spurted in the grip of explosive delight.

His mouth fell open, and the little snake body he'd been licking so threatened to drop away. With a whimper Aziraphale coaxed it back as the aftershocks took him. Gasping for air - he did not normally need it, but on this occasion he did - Aziraphale at last licked his dry lips, and, still panting, struggled to work a hand back up to freedom. Enough to push those two delightful little snakey cocks back into his mouth, and there he gave them his full  attention at last, lewdly slurping as he devoured them with slick  attentions .

The snakes still around him, all over him, in him, some covered in his emissions, seemed to lose all their pretensions to individuality. As one, they rippled in concert with the one specific snake that Aziraphale held in his hands and his mouth, pleasuring with rapt and devoted attention. He built a rhythm back up again, and this time he did not back down or get distracted. Not until the dear little double cocks were twitching and spurting musky salt upon Aziraphale's tongue, and every snake in the room went rigid and stiff and shuddering. If they had been rattlesnakes, the sound they made would have been deafening.

When at last the tension had peaked, the snakes settled down with a blissful little choral hiss, and then Aziraphale fell from the couch when their coils were no longer supporting him, and then he was on the floor on his back, neck bent at a painful angle, and his eyes full of nothing but the lower stomach of very singular and very heavy Crowley. Who was panting and trying desperately to pull himself out of full crawling mode.

Crowley's cock - now singular - was soft and wet in Aziraphale's face. With a little shiver, Aziraphale pulled himself up into a better position to lure Crowley into his cuddling arms. Oh. 

They would both need to bathe so very soon. Or at least miracle the goo away.

"Did you...?" Crowley couldn't even speak very well, the poor dear. He had given so much. Worked so hard, and for all of that Aziraphale was sure his own pleasure must have been more intense. The effort was so concentrated after all.

"Of course I did, my dear. I'm mostly concerned with you. Did you...?"

Crowley at last dropped his facade, slumping down into Aziraphale's arms. "Oh fuck. Oh fuck, of course. That was incredible."

The sound that came out of him, after a good while, was very similar to the multiple snake hissing. But only from one being. It took Aziraphale far too long to realize it was a snore.

And by now Aziraphale understood the comfort principle. He'd been in Crowley's flat enough to know where the bed was, and to understand that he did so love to sleep. Could he carry Crowley? Of course. He was an angel, after all, and the bed was right there, and it was very large.

He was going to begin to understand the pleasure of sleep - on a big wide bed, wrapping his arms around his sleeping . . . whatever the word for what he was. Might be hours, might be weeks, but he was now infused by sexually-transmitted reptilian sleep appreciation, and if he spent a few of the drifting-off moments in pleasant contemplation of ideas for further exploration, well all to the good then.

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
